Parenting: An exciting and exciting adventure

——Book Review of “Mom, Let Me Tell You a Sto­ry”

In the world of pic­ture books, every now and then, a beau­ti­ful and deeply mov­ing book appears, pro­vid­ing both engag­ing read­ing mate­r­i­al for chil­dren and a pow­er­ful way to con­nect par­ents and chil­dren. “Mom, Let Me Tell You a Sto­ry” is one such book.

“Mom, sit down, pause for a moment. / I’ll tell you a sto­ry. / Mom, sit down, pause for a moment. / I’ll tell you the sto­ry, and you’ll listen.”—Imagine such a poet­ic line, read by par­ents to their chil­dren, or told by chil­dren to their par­ents. In this nat­ur­al shift of roles, heart­warm­ing par­ent-child read­ing time is clev­er­ly giv­en new mean­ing. The book we hold in our hands and read togeth­er is no longer just a sim­ple sto­ry; it is a poet­ic explo­ration of growth, learn­ing, and the par­ent-child rela­tion­ship.

For par­ents who fre­quent­ly read pic­ture books to their chil­dren, do you often won­der, “When will my child be able to read to me?” I think this expec­ta­tion is per­fect­ly rea­son­able, but in the real­i­ties of par­ent­ing, it often seems elu­sive. When my daugh­ter was about three years old, on days when she did­n’t have to rush to preschool, she would often wake up ear­li­er than usu­al. Still half asleep, I did­n’t notice what she was doing until one morn­ing, when I sud­den­ly heard her read­ing aloud from a pic­ture book in a clear, res­o­nant voice! You can imag­ine my delight at that moment—holy crap! This child can actu­al­ly read on her own! How­ev­er, when I cau­tious­ly entered her room and, pre­tend­ing noth­ing had hap­pened, tried to test her knowl­edge of the words in the book, I dis­cov­ered that she knew vir­tu­al­ly noth­ing. She was rely­ing sole­ly on mem­o­riz­ing the text-to-pic­ture cor­re­spon­dences to accu­rate­ly recite the con­tent we had been describ­ing to her. Fur­ther­more, while it’s one thing for her to read to her­self for fun and to pass the time, it’s dif­fi­cult to get her to read to you in per­son. Her read­ing aloud at that time was prob­a­bly just a self-made alarm clock pat­tern — “Ding-ding-ding, adults, it’s time to get up and play with me!”

It was­n’t until my daugh­ter was already in ele­men­tary school that I tru­ly enjoyed hav­ing her read to me. It was dur­ing a time when I was ill and had a fever, and dur­ing the time I usu­al­ly read to her, I begged her to read a few books to me. Before that, we had also tried read­ing to her dog, Hen­ry. After a two-week exper­i­ment in which she per­son­al­ly read numer­ous pic­ture books to Hen­ry, she final­ly accept­ed the real­i­ty that Hen­ry was just an une­d­u­cat­ed dog. In sum­ma­ry, I believe that ask­ing chil­dren to read to you is not easy.

Back to the book “Mom, Let Me Tell You a Sto­ry,” although it’s writ­ten in a child’s voice, you don’t have to expect them to read it to you right away. It’s more like a demon­stra­tion and an invi­ta­tion, a long-term, play­ful invi­ta­tion, rich­ly sym­bol­ic and full of fairy-tale fun. With enough patience, your child will one day glad­ly accept the invi­ta­tion. The prepa­ra­tion and wait­ing in the process of grow­ing up always seem too long, but when that unex­pect­ed day arrives, you might dis­cov­er how sud­den­ly hap­pi­ness arrives, and how proud you’ll be!

This book, writ­ten by Nico­la Cin­quet­ti and illus­trat­ed by Lucia Scud­eri, depicts a heart­warm­ing scene through a series of live­ly illus­tra­tions and rhyth­mic text, depict­ing a child who, after learn­ing to read, decides to tell sto­ries to his moth­er. This sim­ple yet pow­er­ful role-play­ing not only marks the child’s leap in self-aware­ness but also reveals the mul­ti­ple roles a moth­er plays in her child’s eyes. The text opens and clos­es with the repet­i­tive phrase, “Mom, sit down. Stop for a moment. I’ll tell you a sto­ry,” cre­at­ing a warm invi­ta­tion and call. This clever use of struc­ture enhances par­ent-child inter­ac­tion and makes read­ing a shared rit­u­al. The vibrant and col­or­ful images, with del­i­cate lines and strik­ing col­or con­trasts, draw read­ers into a world brim­ming with imag­i­na­tion.

Through the eyes of a child, the book depicts var­i­ous images of a moth­er: nav­i­gat­ing the city, run­ning through the fields, swim­ming in the ocean… These images not only show­case a moth­er’s ener­gy and adven­tur­ous spir­it, but also reflect the child’s deep affec­tion and pro­found respect for her. In the eyes of a child, a moth­er is a pro­tec­tor, a guide, and a part­ner in shared adven­ture. Each “adven­ture” in the sto­ry sym­bol­izes the deep­en­ing bond between moth­er and child. From a child’s learn­ing to read to their own active sto­ry­telling, every step bears wit­ness to their shared growth. The moment a child learns to read inde­pen­dent­ly and shows their moth­er this achieve­ment is undoubt­ed­ly the most cher­ished moment in the par­ent­ing process.

In my opin­ion, this work is rich with metaphors, and adult read­ers can eas­i­ly relate each of the moth­er’s adven­tures to real-life expe­ri­ences. For exam­ple, “strug­gling to cross the city streets”—isn’t that the dual chal­lenge of work and fam­i­ly life that mod­ern par­ents often face in the bustling city? Scenes like “tra­vers­ing the pump­kin patch, leap­ing over mud­dy pud­dles, step­ping over herds of cattle”—such scenes can be seen as the nat­ur­al and unfore­seen chal­lenges encoun­tered in a child’s growth, the unex­pect­ed dif­fi­cul­ties and prob­lems that require imme­di­ate solu­tions in par­ent­ing. For exam­ple, “climb­ing moun­tains and ridges, then swoop­ing down”—actions that are both chal­leng­ing and liberating—perhaps reflect the var­i­ous hard­ships and ulti­mate joys of par­ent­ing. For exam­ple, “with­out even tak­ing off her dress, she plunged into the sea, swim­ming in the bound­less deep blue”—maybe sym­bol­izes the moth­er’s self-release and recov­ery in par­ent­ing. The ocean’s tran­quil­i­ty and vast­ness reflect the calm­ness and tol­er­ance nec­es­sary after fac­ing chal­lenges.

Of course, read­ers might also inter­pret the book’s series of adven­ture scenes as sym­bol­ic depic­tions of a moth­er’s return after a long day of work. After a hec­tic work­day in the city, nav­i­gat­ing dai­ly chal­lenges, and over­com­ing numer­ous obsta­cles, she final­ly returns home, a moment of tran­quil­i­ty and relax­ation. The child read­ing a sto­ry to her moth­er is a reward for her hard work and a pre­cious moment of fam­i­ly con­nec­tion. This sit­u­a­tion not only pro­vides the moth­er with need­ed rest and emo­tion­al ful­fill­ment, but also strength­ens the child’s sense of respon­si­bil­i­ty and fam­i­ly belong­ing.

I’m not famil­iar with the two Ital­ian writ­ers and illus­tra­tors of this book. How­ev­er, it’s worth not­ing that the writer, Nico­la Cin­quet­ti, is actu­al­ly a man, a high school his­to­ry and phi­los­o­phy teacher, a chil­dren’s book author, and a poet. This book feels like a poem he wrote in praise of moth­ers and par­ent-child read­ing, and the lit­tle boy in the book per­haps reflects some of his own per­son­al feel­ings. Lucia Scud­eri, the illus­tra­tor, is a pas­sion­ate artist with a deep love of nature. The deep blue sea, rolling moun­tains, lush forests, and exot­ic flo­ra and fau­na all exude a mag­i­cal pow­er in her paint­ings, invit­ing you to jour­ney into a fairy­tale won­der­land. This duo has tru­ly achieved a tru­ly per­fect col­lab­o­ra­tion.

A black­bird with a red beak and red feet appears through­out the book, accom­pa­ny­ing the moth­er in every adven­ture scene, from the front end­pa­pers to the back end­pa­pers. Yet, it remains unmen­tioned in the text, like­ly due to the illus­tra­tor’s clever design. In West­ern cul­tur­al sym­bol­ism, birds often rep­re­sent free­dom, mes­sen­gers of the soul, or mes­sen­gers across life and death. In this book, the black­bird may sym­bol­ize a pro­tec­tive or guid­ing force, per­haps rep­re­sent­ing a child’s obser­va­tion, com­pan­ion­ship, and sup­port of its moth­er. Fur­ther­more, the black­bird’s pres­ence offers a rare spec­ta­tor’s per­spec­tive, remind­ing read­ers to observe the moth­er’s life jour­ney from a broad­er per­spec­tive.

The sym­bol­ic ele­ments in the book enrich the sto­ry and offer mul­ti­ple inter­pre­ta­tions, allow­ing adults and chil­dren alike to dis­cov­er more mean­ing and enjoy­ment in read­ing. This book is a joy­ful invi­ta­tion, remind­ing us that par­ent­ing is both a chal­lenge and a reward­ing adven­ture, with every step filled with oppor­tu­ni­ties to learn and grow.

Writ­ten in Bei­jing on May 10, 2024